


The Times In Between

by erinthesails



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: M/M, Summer Camp AU, i can't believe i'm committing to this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-05-19 01:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5950651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinthesails/pseuds/erinthesails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conrad Achenleck has been annually shipped off to spend his long and lonely summers at camp for years now. He plans to spend this summer like any other: with his head down and his mouth shut. But after a run in with an overly friendly redhead named Hanna and an intimidating senior named Luce who seems to have it out for him, something tells Conrad that this summer might not go exactly as planned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it looks like I'm in for the long haul here. Tune in shortly for Chapter 2.

One might think that, after spending three months every year for four consecutive years at the same summer camp, the odds of not picking up a single friend along the way should be nearly astronomical. Unfortunately, the odds never seemed to be on Conrad Achenleck’s side.

He reflected on this as he sat alone on his duffle bag with only his sketchbook and pencil to keep him company, thinking that maybe he should invest in a load of lotto tickets on his sixteenth birthday, and find out if his complete transcendence of all rules of luck and chance could be used to his advantage. But two years was a long time to wait, and for now it brought him nothing but misery.

 _When I’m selling paintings for millions of dollars apiece, they’re all going to feel so stupid_ , Conrad thought bitterly, watching teenagers swarm the campground like ants, hugging their parents goodbye and scuttling across the parking lot to embrace old friends. A few of the shyer kids hung back with their parents until families were formally asked to leave. Mrs. Achenleck, for her part, hadn’t bothered to linger more than the minute or two it took for him to unload his things from the back of the car. 

She had sat primly in the front seat, adjusting her tortoiseshell sunglasses and the silk handkerchief tied carefully around her hair, muttering to herself about urchins and ill-mannered children as Conrad heaved his duffle from the trunk. After dropping his things into the dust, Conrad had walked to the passenger window to attempt an awkward but cordial goodbye, but she was already revving the engine, adjusting her mirrors, and shifting to reverse the moment the trunk slammed shut. A carefully manicured hand gestured vaguely from the window as the car sped away, leaving Conrad coughing out exhaust in its wake.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to be disappointed though. He knew full well that his mother didn’t dump him here every summer to ensure his own healthy socialization. No, as he’d overheard her gossiping over the phone more times than he could count, “Even past 40, a kid really puts a damper on the dating game, yanno?” His summers were her respite from motherhood, and even as much as Conrad disliked Camp Hutton, he cherished the rare time away from her suffocating presence.

So he sat down and waited, as he always did, for the noise and clamor and excitement to die down so he would be allowed to shuffle quietly to his new cabin and draw in peace.

“Achenleck?” said a dry voice somewhere above him. A shadow fell over Conrad’s sketchbook, blotting out the half-finished dinosaur taking up most of the page. Conrad looked up to find a long, impassive, and slightly sallow face craning over a clipboard to look down at him.

“Uh, y-yes?” Conrad stammered. This man was clearly a counselor, but not one he had ever seen before. He was uncomfortably tall and graying slightly along his temples, though he couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties. A kind glimmer in his otherwise sunken and deeply lined eyes held him just short of completely terrifying.

“Conrad, is it?” the counselor asked, glancing at his clipboard. “I’m Ellis Dots. You’ll be with me in Cabin 6 this summer.”

Conrad nodded slowly but said nothing. He could not imagine a less fitting name for this grim, tower of a man than Ellis Dots.

“It’s nice to meet you, Conrad,” Ellis said, pointedly breaking Conrad’s silence. Conrad swallowed.

“It’s…it’s nice to meet you too, Mister Dots.”

The man smiled a little at this – a subtle, nearly imperceptible upward twitch of the lip that almost made him look spookier.

“It’s Ellis, Conrad,” he said. “You can call me Ellis.”

“Awww, but Ellis is such a boring name!”

Conrad blinked and looked down from Ellis’ lofty, serious face, to find a tiny, redheaded boy who looked to be around nine years old, bouncing at Elllis’ side. Conrad hadn’t noticed him walk over: it was as if this kid had simply blinked into existence, congealed from clouds of kicked-up dust and pure energy. He certainly looked it anyway, Conrad thought, noting the mud-caked knees and peeling sunburn on his nose and forehead. Cars had only begin arriving at the campsite fifteen minutes ago and already this kid looked as though he had just crawled out of the forest for the first time in years.

“You could go by any name you want here and you’re still gonna tell people your name is Ellis?” the kid continued indignantly.

“Ellis is my name, Hanna,” said Ellis, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “We talked about this, remember?”

“Yeah, but these people don’t know you! You could tell them any name you want! Wouldn’t being named Galahad be cooler? Or Ajax? Or Olympus?” the kid named Hanna whined. “You’re definitely tall enough to be an Olympus. Look at you! You’re HUGE!”

“As ‘cool’ as it would be, Ellis is the name have, so Ellis is the name I will use,” Ellis said, with all the patience of a saint. “But you may call me Galahad or Olympus or whatever you like.”

“Well I’m gonna find a name you like better than Ellis,” said Hanna, his eyes glimmering with a sort of manic determination. “Mark my words! I’m gonna try a different name every day until I find the perfect name for you. Today you’re Galahad!”  
“Alright, Hanna,” Ellis said, apparently unfazed by the boy’s boundless enthusiasm. Even Conrad was feeling slightly assaulted by its intensity, and he was only a bystander.

“In the meantime,” Ellis continued, tucking the clipboard under his arm, “why don’t you keep Conrad company while I round up the rest of our cabin?”

Conrad started with surprise as Ellis walked away, and before he could stop himself, the question had jumped out of his mouth: “You’re in my cabin? But…how old are you?”

Hanna’s bright expression dimmed like a cloud passing in front of the sun, and Conrad regretted the question immediately.

“I’m eleven!” he cried indignantly. “Why does everyone think I’m so young! I mean sure I have asthma and I’m kinda short and my voice hasn’t dropped yet, but still!”

“S-sorry!” Conrad said quickly. “I’m…I just thought our cabin was supposed to be mostly freshman.”

“Well, yeah…” Hanna said, suddenly looking sheepish. “I was supposed to be in the younger cabin, but Galahad is my next-door neighbor and he’s been babysitting me for like, a million years, so my mom says she doesn’t trust anyone else to keep me out of trouble. Me and Gally are best friends!”

Hanna practically beamed with pride, the previous offence apparently completely forgotten. This kid was a veritable generator of positive energy. Conrad felt exhausted just being near him.

“Oh!” Hanna said suddenly, before Conrad could think of a reply to this announcement. “That reminds me of another name! Pythias is way cooler than Galahad, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before! I’ve gotta go tell him! Man, I’m so glad I read that book on mythology last week!”

And with that, Hanna was off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust behind him. As he ran, he called over his shoulder: “I’ll see you around, Conrad! I’m glad we’re friends now!”

Friends? Conrad gaped after Hanna as he scampered off, just as quickly as he had come. Had he just accidentally made a friend with this eleven-year-old human spark plug?

The thought, be careful what you wish for, flashed grimly through Conrad’s head as the tuft of fiery, red hair bounced up the hill toward the cabins. But, he supposed as the herd of chattering kids began to thin and groups of friends started to trickle, arm in arm, up the hill after him, beggars can’t be choosers was an equally appropriate adage for his situation.

Before Conrad even had time to fully wrap his head around that word, friend, something collided hard with his duffle bag, nearly sending him spilling into the dirt. His pen and sketchbook tumbled to the ground in his attempt to steady himself.

“Oi,” said a voice somewhere behind him. “‘Less ya yanna drag yer own shit up the hill, I’d recommend budgin’ off.”

Conrad craned his head all the way back to identify his assailant. His stomach dropped. Oh no. Not this guy, anyone but this guy…

Towering over him and looking more and more exasperated by the second, was none other than the last person he had expected to see this summer: Luce Worth. Even upside down, Conrad could see the change in expression when Luce realized whose luggage he had been charged with taking up to the cabins.

Luce raised an eyebrow and spat out the toothpick he had been chewing on, grinding it into the dirt with a greying sneaker like a cigarette. He crossed his wiry arms and grinned down at Conrad. His was unmistakably the self-satisfied grin of a predator toying with its cornered prey.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Lil’ Miss Temperance,” he said in his thick, Australian drawl, licking his cigarette-stained teeth. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”

Conrad swallowed hard. That cinched it: he had to be cursed. He had to have the worst luck of anyone in the world. Of all the seniors who could have been assigned to pick up his luggage, of course Conrad had to get the one he had accidentally gotten kicked out of camp the year before.

All he had done was dutifully reported in an abandoned six-pack he had found on the outskirts of the forest! How could he have known that anyone would be so stupid as to write: “Property of Luce Worth! All others: FUCK OFF!” on the side of their illegal contraband? How Luce had gotten back into camp this summer after that debacle was a mystery to Conrad, but if the sleek, black towncar he had arrived in and the matching leather luggage he had pulled out of it were any indication, Conrad assumed that money was involved.

Conrad opened and closed his mouth like a fish, struggling to find some appropriate response or retort or apology to placate him. Luce Worth was a notorious troublemaker and complete prick: everyone knew that. But he was so goddamn witty and cool that everyone seemed to like him anyway. Plus, everyone always wants to be friends with the guy who brings the beer. Being three years younger and without any social connections to speak of, Conrad had easily slipped easily under his radar for the past several years, until this summer apparently. 

Even now, no one was supposed to know who had turned over the fateful six-pack, but, as it always did in groups of teenagers left to their own devices, word must have gotten around. Conrad found himself shrinking in the shadow of Luce’s long, lean form. He couldn’t have been much taller than Ellis, but in this moment, he was ten times more terrifying.

“Whassamatter?” Luce said coolly, reveling in Conrad’s alarm. “Cat gotcha tongue? C’mon, don’t tell now me you got nothin’ ta say!”

“L-look,” Conrad managed to spit out, “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble, okay? It was an accident, I didn’t even know they were yours! If I knew they were going to kick you out, I wouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry!”

To Conrad’s dismay, Luce’s Cheshire cat grin only widened at his halting justification.

“Hey, don’t sweat it kid,” he said. “Bygones, right?”

Luce reached down and yanked the duffle bag right out from under Conrad, toppling him face first into the dust. He slung the bag over his shoulder as Conrad wiped his glasses clean and stared up at him in mute shock.

“If I wuz you though,” he continued, “I’d be careful’a slip-ups like tha’ in the future. Word starts gettin’ around tha’ yer a snitch…who knows wha’ could happen?”

And with that, Luce turned around and began the steep march up the hill. Conrad summoned all his energy to call after his retreating back.

“Wait! Who told you?”

Without turning to face him, Luce barked back.

“You did!”

Conrad wilted as Luce’s rough, grating laughter disappeared up the hillside with him. He felt as though all the air had been let out of his lungs. His face burned with rage as much as it did humiliation, and it took him several, long seconds before he was able to quiet his shaking hands enough to gather his dusty sketchbook and get to his feet. He brushed the dirt from his jeans and tried to carefully remove some of the grime from his ruined dinosaur sketch. Great, just great. Four summers of gloomy, but admittedly serene loneliness, and in a single day he had made his first friend and, apparently, his first enemy.

With a sigh he began the march up to the cabins along with the lingering groups of seniors doing their annual duty of dragging the younger kids’ luggage up the hill. For a moment he almost thought he heard a chorus of hushed whispers pass through the groups as he passed.

“Is that him?”

“Yeah I think that’s him…”

“Shhhh!”

Conrad felt his face grow redder as he became more and more certain that the whispers and covert glances weren’t just the product of his paranoid imagination. Make that a friend, an enemy, and a bad reputation…He kept his eyes firmly forward as he strode past them, determined not to give them the satisfaction of knowing that he had heard.

One thing was for certain, he thought with as he reached the top, where his luggage was waiting for him in front of Cabin 6 with no leering, blonde-haired senior in sight. This summer was bound to be more interesting than any of the four before. The very thought was enough to send waves of anxiety crashing through his entire body.

“Hey, Conrad!”

Conrad looked up to see Hanna frantically waving at him from just beyond the cabin, seated in a semi-circle of what Conrad presumed were other members of Cabin 6, with Ellis standing in the middle, reading from his clipboard. Hanna gestured expectantly to an empty spot on the ground beside him, leaving Conrad no choice but to trudge over and take his honored position as “new friend.”

As Conrad settled in, criss-cross applesauce, listening to Ellis listing off the camp’s many rules and regulations, Hanna practically vibrating with energy beside him, he couldn’t help but miss the comfortable, familiar isolation of being unknown. A gaggle of seniors burst into laughter somewhere behind him, Luce Worth’s harsh cackle cutting through the other voices like a serrated blade, and Conrad found himself dreading every second of the long summer that was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luce Worth is, was, and always will be an asshole. And now, he's Conrad's problem.

For a whole week, Conrad was almost able to convince himself that, despite his the looming threat left by his run in on the first day of camp, this summer might just be perfectly normal after all. For seven days, Luce didn’t so much look his way, blessedly ignoring him the way everyone else always did. Well, everyone else with the exception of one especially talkative redhead.

Since their meeting in the parking lot, Hanna had taken to following Conrad around like a newly adopted puppy most of the time. Though he didn’t seem to have nearly so much trouble making friends as Conrad did, for some reason that Conrad couldn’t begin to imagine, Hanna seemed to prefer Conrad’s company to anyone else’s. Though he spent plenty of time during their daily activities wandering off, chattering about his many interests and deep-rooted convictions about them to anyone who would listen, at the end of the day, without fail, Hanna always returned to Conrad’s deeply bemused side.

Conrad could never quite figure out why Hanna seemed so interested in spending time with him: Conrad, for his part, hardly ever said more than a few words to the kid, mostly opting, as he always did, for listening quietly rather than risking embarrassment by attempting conversation. Hanna would get bored eventually, he kept telling himself. Before long, he would either grow sick of what was essentially talking to himself for hours on end, or Conrad would finally slip up and start responding, and prove himself definitively not funny or clever or interesting enough for him to continue to consider a friend.

He tried to keep himself at arm’s length in anticipation for the day when Hanna would finally be struck with that realization. Conrad spent most of his time alone, both here at camp and back at home, so he would be fine when Hanna finally did decide to cut him loose, he just didn’t want to let himself get too comfortable with the company in the meantime. Unfortunately, “arm’s length” was not a concept that Hanna seemed to be at all familiar with.

“People think that just because Ouija boards are packaged and sold like toys means they don’t work or that they’re just for fun, but oh boy, is talking to the spirits with that kind of disrespect a recipe for disaster,” Hanna said to him one evening on the way to the final assembly of the day. The other dozen or so members of their cabin moved as a single, chattering mass toward the center of the camp, with Conrad and Hanna straggling at its tail end.

They had just spent the better part of the afternoon at the archery and rock climbing stations, or as Conrad liked to call them, arrow-fetching and rock-climbing-watching. In previous years, in a few fleeting and far-between bursts of bravery, he had tried once or twice to shoot an arrow or two, or to make it even halfway up the miniature kiddie-wall for young elementary schoolers, but every time he tried, his mother’s shrill fury in the back of his head quickly buried any newfound self-confidence. At fourteen he was still yelled at for handling anything more dangerous than blunted children’s scissors, and even the stubby apple tree in his front yard had been the subject of countless lectures on the dangers of heights and throughout his childhood. He had long since given up trying to kick those old anxieties and had resorted mostly to sitting on the sidelines, shrugging off Hanna’s many attempts to drag him into participating. But his lack of interest never seemed to be much of a deterrent to Hanna.

“Ouija boards are like…I dunno! They’re like…the Battletoads of spirit summoning!” Hanna continued with great zeal. “Looks kinda dumb, doesn’t seem like it should be too hardcore, but then you sit down and you’re like WOAH!”

Conrad snorted, covering his mouth as a reluctant grin spread over his face. Hanna was always saying weird things like that, and even at some approximation of arm’s length from friendship, Conrad couldn’t help but find his bizarre tangents entertaining. At least he wasn’t the weirdest person at this camp. Where Hanna got the confidence to back it up though, Conrad couldn’t begin to fathom.

“No, it’s true!” Hanna protested, full of righteous indignation. “See, they’re like—“

But then he stopped suddenly and gave Conrad a strange look. Panic jolted through him. Had he done something wrong? Should he not have laughed? Hanna always seemed to be so bubbly, so unextinguishable, Conrad didn’t think that much of anything could put a damper on his enthusiasm, or his ramblings about the objects of his enthusiasm for that matter. Leave it to Conrad to offend the most aggressively upbeat human being he had ever met, he thought to himself furiously.

“Sorry! I just—I meant—I…uh…” Conrad stuttered, fumbling over an apology before Hanna continued.

“You just laughed!” Hanna declared, beaming triumphantly.

Conrad gaped at him, apologies dying on his lips. “I…what?”

“You just laughed!” Hanna repeated gleefully. “This is the first time I’ve seen you laugh since we got here!”

That couldn’t possibly be true. He laughed often enough! He was certain he did! He might be a little on the anxious side, but Conrad had never considered himself humourless. But as he thought back on the past week, he realized that Hanna was right. Not only that, but this was quite possibly the first time he had laughed at camp in all the time he had attended: not much ever seemed to strike him as funny alone and friendless in the middle of the wilderness.

“I knew you had a sense of humour deep down in there,” Hanna said, bouncing and grinning up at him. “That serious exoskeleton might have everyone else fooled, but you ain’t foolin’ me!”

Conrad allowed himself a tiny smile as Hanna forgot the interruption as quickly as he had made it, and launched into another tirade about respecting the power of Ouija boards and tarot cards. Unusual and exasperating though he could be, Conrad couldn’t help but appreciate his confidence and inexhaustible positivity. He hadn’t realized quite how rare these were in his life until now.

“Alright, alright, eyes up here everyone,” snapped Director Adelaide as the pair of them finally caught up to the rest of the group, lined up single file around the flag pole that stood at the center of the camp. She stood in front of the crowd of chattering kids alongside her two co-directors, looking as bored and impatient as she always did.

A gaggle of seniors on the side of the flagpole opposite Conrad and Hanna seemed not to have heard her, or at least seemed not to care, and continued their loud conversation, punctuated with peals of laughter. A messy, blonde head of hair bobbed at the center of the group, and Conrad quickly turned his eyes down to his shoes. The first few days of camp, Conrad had been constantly on edge, jumping at sudden noises, his heart rate doubling at unexpected shadows, all in anticipation for Luce to strike. But by now it seemed apparent that Luce had either meant only to scare him or had completely forgotten about him, so Conrad, in turn, had decisively put him out of his mind and stayed out of his way. The mere sight of Luce didn’t fill him with a bone-deep, gut wrenching panic anymore, as it had those first few days, but Conrad was still unwilling to give Luce any reason to so much as remember his name.

“Hey, you in the back!” Director Cas shouted to the group of talkative seniors. “We have a few announcements you’re gonna want to hear, so shut up and listen.”

Directors Adelaide, Finn, and Cas had been running Camp Hutton as long as Conrad had been in attendance, and as far as Conrad could tell, none of them seemed to have the slightest interest in children. In fact, the trio seemed to loathe every moment they were forced to spend in the company of their young charges. Why they decided to take jobs at a summer camp was a mystery to Conrad, and why they had kept them so long was even more baffling, but their “hands-off” directing style at least left the camp blessedly free-form, allowing people like Conrad to get away with spending more time on the sidelines and not mired in camp activities. Unfortunately, it also left some other types of campers running wild without any interference from higher-ups, unless they were being remarkably careless. Not that Conrad was naming any names…

“We hope you have been enjoying your first week here at Camp Hutton,” said Director Finn. “But we’ve decided that, beginning today, we will be implementing a few changes. This evening we will be pairing older campers and younger campers into a Big Sibling mentoring program, which will last for the duration of the summer.”

A murmur went up among the crowd, campers turning to one another with confusion etched clearly on their faces. Conrad was as puzzled by this announcement as most everyone else seemed to be. Mentoring program? What was _that_ supposed to mean? Why would they need a mentoring program? He felt the spidery fingers of anxiety crawling up his throat as he considered the implications of this announcement. The only good thing about camp was that he wasn’t required to spend one-on-one time with anyone. He could spend the whole summer alone with his sketchbook if he wanted, no peers, no mentors, no one to peer over his shoulder and psychoanalyze his every word and deed. He didn’t need a mentor: he needed to be left well enough alone.

Hanna, for his part, seemed thrilled.

“I bet that means we’re gonna get to hang out with upperclassmen!” he said, positively vibrating with excitement. “Ooooh, I hope mine’s a girl…”

“It had come to our attention that _some of you_ ,” Adelaide said, glaring pointedly at the group of seniors who had subsided to snickering quietly as she spoke. “Might benefit from some additional responsibility. And others among you are in desperate need of some maturity and guidance in your lives.”

“We have selected partners at random,” Finn went on. “And for the remainder of the summer, you and your partner will get to know one another, attend daily paired activities together, and most importantly, work together in building your vessel for the Annual Lake Hutton Races.”

The scattered murmurs burst suddenly into groans, some of the upperclassmen crying out in protest.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“You can’t do that!”

“How are we supposed to win the Hutton Races with little kids?”

As far as Conrad was aware, the Lake Hutton Races had been a time-honored tradition at Camp Hutton for as long as the camp had existed, not that it ever meant much to him. Every year, over the course of the summer, campers slowly but surely congealed into pairs and trios, and spent the weeks between June and August designing and building tiny boats (or approximations of boats, anyway) to race across the lake on the final day of camp. Building an award-winning vessel with friends was a tradition at Camp Hutton. Conrad, however, traditionally stuck to the sidelines and avoided the whole thing until it was too late for a counselor to assign him to anyone. In his four years of attendance, Conrad had never successfully completed a boat, so the sudden, swift blow to the tradition was more or less all the same to him. Privately, he almost hoped that this might be enough to finally end the tradition once and for all. He would be grateful not to have to waste time that could be spent drawing or reading or doing literally anything else, pretending to make friends over a soggy cardboard box.

“Quiet everyone! Be quiet!” Casimiro cut through the chorus of voices. “The faster you shut your mouths, the sooner this will be over and we can all get dinner. We’re as hungry as you are, people.”

As soon as the voices quieted to a gently burbling hush, Finn produced a clipboard from the backpack at his feet and, scanning its pages for the first name on his list, began to read.

“Hunter Abernathy will be paired with Susan Wallace.”

A few seniors slapped a girl with a dark bob on the back as she grimaced at the sound of her name.

“Conrad Achenleck will be paired with…”

Conrad held his breath as Finn squinted at the paper. It would be fine, he told himself. Maybe having a partner wouldn’t be so bad. He had made one friend already, maybe he could manage to make two…

“Luce Worth.”

Conrad’s stomach dropped. _Luce Worth?_

He felt dizzy. Or nauseous. Or completely bewildered to his core. Or all three. Of all the people he could have been paired with, _Luce Worth?_ This wasn’t an assignment, this was a death sentence.

Conrad’s eyes went wide with protest, trying desperately to catch Finn’s eye, but he was already moving on to the next name without comment, as if nothing was amiss with this arrangement. How could they put the two of them together? They _knew_ Conrad was the one who turned him in last summer, how could they have allowed the two of them to get paired off?

Conrad looked up, for the first time since their arrival at camp, toward the boy at the core of the group of seniors. Luce Worth’s piercing blue eyes were fixed on him, that predator’s grin plastered to his face again. A few of his friends were doubled over beside him, stifling laughter as Finn continued listing off names. Conrad thought he might be sick. The rest of the list was read, it felt to Conrad, from the other side of a thick pane of glass, and he stood in a daze until the list finally came to an end.

“Alright,” Finn said, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “You are all dismissed for dinner. You are encouraged to find and get friendly with your new Mentors or Mentees now, because your first paired activity is first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Well, he’s not a cute senior girl,” Hanna said, making a face, apparently oblivious to Conrad’s inner turmoil, “but I hear that Lamont guy is pretty alright. He’s always hanging around the cool upperclassmen, so he’s gotta be doing something right. Maybe he’ll introduce me! I’ve always wanted to—”

But Conrad wasn’t listening anymore. He was rooted to the spot, zombielike in his daze, as fellow campers began to disperse around him, the three directors quickly following suit.

This couldn’t be happening. He could feel Luce’s pointed gaze on him from across the dusty lot, and it was all he could do to pretend he didn’t notice. He had to do something.

Leaving Hanna, mid-sentence, behind him, Conrad stumbled forward like a doll on strings, unsteady but determined. Surely one of the directors would be able to set this right. Once they realized their mistake he would just swap partners with someone else. They could fix this. They could still fix this.

He pushed through the crowd of humanity, jogging up behind the somber row of Directors just before they arrived at the dining hall steps.

“Director Finn…” Conrad called weakly, instinctually reaching out to grip his forearm as he finally skidded up to the steps.

Finn slowly turned around, one foot on the ground, one foot on the dining hall steps, and looked right past Conrad to the hand that was resting on his arm, raising an eyebrow in silent disapproval. Conrad quickly snatched his hand back.

“What is it?” Finn asked. His expression gave Conrad the distinct impression that he didn’t much care to hear the answer. He swallowed hard and stuttered, “Well…I mean…it’s just that I was wondering if maybe…maybe you had…I don’t know…like, if there was some sort of—”

“I don’t have all day Mr. Achenleck.”

Conrad took a deep breath to steady himself and licked his chapping lips. He started again.

“I was just wondering if maybe there was some mistake with my assignment,” he said, much more firmly this time.

“And what would make you wonder such a thing?”

“Well, I mean after…” he hesitated again, lowering his voice. “After what happened last year, is it really a good idea for me to be paired with Luce?”

“I don’t see why it should matter.”

Conrad squinted at Finn, mystified. Was this a joke? Some elaborate prank at his expense? How could he _not see why it should matter_? Luce wasn’t just some teenage miscreant, he was _the_ teenage miscreant. All the seniors listened to him, and the younger kids would too, if he ever deigned to grace them with his presence. He could make Conrad’s life a living hell if he wanted to, and some sickening, instinctual knowledge of teenage bullies told Conrad that this was no accident, and that Luce _definitely_ wanted to.

“I mean, he’s not exactly my biggest fan at the moment,” Conrad said, his voice cracking, briefly jumping up an octave against his will. “I’m just worried about our ability to work together civilly...”

“I am confident in your abilities, Mr. Achenleck. Friendship and forgiveness, after all, are core tenants of the Camp Hutton Creed,” Finn said with an expression that betrayed nothing but disdain for the very idea of such tenants.

“But aren’t you…I don’t know, worried about him being a bad influence? I mean, he brought alcohol to camp!”

“Mr. Worth has assured us that his behavior last year was an… _anomaly_.”

Even as Finn spoke the words, he pursed his lips like he didn’t quite believe it. Conrad was aghast. An _anomaly_? Everyone, even the councilors, knew that Luce Worth and his crew spent every summer drinking, smoking, and sleeping their way around camp; this was the first time he had actually gotten caught, sure, but they had to know that this was no anomaly.

“He and his family have given us their utmost assurance that he has been thoroughly reformed and will not be giving us any more trouble this summer,” he continued as Conrad gaped at him like a beached fish. “The past is the past, Mr. Achenleck. These assignments were randomly selected and I’m afraid I can’t give you special treatment due to personal prejudice. It would be unfair to Mr. Worth and the rest of your fellow campers for you to be allowed to select and veto partners at your leisure. I suggest you learn to put the events of last year behind you and make the best of your assignment.”

For a wild moment, Conrad almost demanded just how much of their pay that summer was coming from the Worth family bank account. But thankfully, Finn turned away and coolly followed his fellow Directors away before Conrad could let slip anything that might make him even more enemies around here than he already had.

_Reformed._ He could have laughed if he weren’t so completely overcome with looming dread and despair. Luce was a jerk, a loudmouth, and a delinquent, a slap on the wrist and a year to think about his actions weren’t going to do anything to change that. Finn knew that, surely Cas and Adelaide knew that too. Apathetic as they were, they weren’t stupid. Conrad could only assume that the Worth pockets ran even deeper than he had suspected. And now he would have to spend the whole summer—his only time all year free of his mother and those kids at school who hated rather than benevolently ignored him—terrorized by Luce Worth.

He was too busy stewing in his own anxiety to hear the footsteps shuffling up behind him, and before he even had time to realize that he was no longer ascending the dining hall steps alone, a hand swung down from nowhere, landing in a tight grip around his shoulder. Conrad jumped and whipped his head around. And who else was there standing beside him, leering down at him, than Luce Worth. Conrad’s blood went cold.

“Howdjer chat with Finn go, _lil bro_?” he asked, steering Conrad firmly up toward the dining hall. “Got rid’a me yet?”

All the synapses in Conrad’s brain seemed to be misfiring at once. The stench of cigarettes filled his throat, making him gag, and Luce’s spindly arms were stronger than they looked, towing Conrad helplessly alongside him.

“I—you—I wasn’t—“

“Sure ya were,” Luce said, gripping him ever tighter. It felt like he was trying to squeeze the air right out of Conrad’s lungs. He thanked his lucky stars that asthma was among his list of health problems. “I mean I can’t exactly blame ya. I’d be trynna get outta bein’ partners with me too if I were you.”

Luce grinned down at Conrad as they reached the upper dining hall patio, sides pressed together.

“But I just wanna letcha know that I’ve got no hard feelin’s about ya snitchin’ and getting’ me kicked out and everythin’ last year, Temperance.” Conrad found himself fixated with horror, unable to tear his eyes away from Luce’s. They were bright blue and prematurely crinkled at the corners, and Conrad had a hard time imagining any trace of genuine emotion ever being reflected out of them. They were the eyes of a trickster and Conrad was caught in his web. He swallowed hard, fear holding every inch of his body rigid in Luce’s grip. “It’s all in the past, Connie, don’t ya worry ‘bout a thing, alright?”

Luce pushed the double doors wide open, steering them both into the dining hall, and before Conrad could even begin to think of a way to reply to that, or at least to extricate himself without inciting any additional ire, Luce veered sharply to the left, away from the table where the rest of Conrad’s cabin chatted amiably about their new assignments.

“In fact,” Luce continued as Conrad opened his mouth to stammer a protest. “Why don’t ya join me at my table? As a gesture’a goodwill an’ all?”

“I really think I should be sitting at my own table,” Conrad replied quickly, heat rising suddenly in his face as his words came out just a little more high pitched than he had intended. “I mean, Ellis will be wondering where I am and—”

“You gotta learn ta stop worryin’ so much about these damn counselors,” Luce said, his grin widening at Conrad’s obvious distress. Conrad cursed himself for being so easy to read. He cursed himself for picking up those stupid beer bottles last year and ever getting involved with the hellish tornado that was Luce Worth. “If I’m gonna teach ya one thing this summer, Temperance, it’s not ta worry so much about what yer _supposed_ ta do. Or what other people thinka you, fer that matter. Ya never know when a skill like that is gonna come in handy…”

As the pair approached the seniors’ table, it became clear that Luce’s friends were expecting them. They had known, Luce had _known_ that this would happen, though Conrad couldn’t begin to guess how. Conrad found himself wishing more and more fervently that a bear had emerged from the woods and mauled him to death last summer before he had laid eyes on those bottles. He wished that a bear would emerge from the woods and maul him to death _now._ Surely it would be a kinder fate than the grinning, snickering gaggle of seniors that awaited him.

Luce guided him firmly to the unoccupied bench beside them, forcing him into the seat then sliding in at his side. Conrad looked wildly around for Ellis, Hanna, anyone to come to his rescue. He frantically scanned the bench where his cabinmates sat, eyes locking onto the jet of flaming curls bobbing with enthusiasm at the end of the table. Hanna was facing away from him, chattering at the kids around him, oblivious to Conrad’s plight. Ellis was beside him, too busy keeping his table under control to notice the missing member, apparently. And that…that was just about it for the list of people who had any investment in Conrad’s wellbeing. His heart settled somewhere in his shoes as Luce leaned in, grinning at him through cigarette-stained teeth.

Luce’s friends, a gaggle of about seven seniors, all looked on with the air of people betting big money on a dog fight. Only one of them seemed uninterested in the spectacle, a stocky, dark haired boy who sat on Luce’s other side, his arms crossed, frowning slightly. A possible ally? Conrad tried to catch his eye, tried to silently beg for help, but the boy refused to meet his gaze, looking instead in vague annoyance at the other seniors around him. Conrad gave up, fixing his gaze on the table before him, trying to avoid the six other pairs of eyes flicking excitedly between Luce and himself.

He was well and truly alone here.

“So how’s your summer goin’ so far, Temperance?” Luce asked, adopting an expression of utmost innocence that made all of his friends snicker. Conrad hoped with all of his might that this nickname wouldn’t stick. He had been stuck with plenty of girly nicknames throughout his childhood, and none of them were particularly pleasant, but he thought ‘Temperance” had to be the worst of all of them. Maybe it was just the way Luce said it, all drawn out, with a sneer in every syllable. He continued before Conrad could say anything. “Excited ta get workin’ on our lil’ boat together? I know I am! Nothin’ quite like knockin’ back a few beers and settin’ out on the open—“

Luce comically clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Oopsies!” he said as his friends giggled. The boy beside him rolled his eyes and turned away. “I almost forgot, ya don’t _approve_ of such things, huh Temperance?”

Conrad’s face burned and he could feel bile rising in his throat. He couldn’t understand why Luce was doing this. He _knew_ Conrad hadn’t meant to get him in trouble. No one in their right mind would deliberately get in Luce Worth’s way, certainly not Conrad. Conrad didn’t deliberately get in _anyone’s_ way! He hardly even deliberately _spoke_ to other humans.

“No offense meant, _lil bro_ ,” he said. “I wouldn’ wanna offend the delicate sensibilities of our resident teetotaler. Yer not gonna _tell on me_ , are ya?”

“N-no, I’m not…” Conrad mumbled, his voice weak, stricken with fear.

“What was that?” Luce cupped a hand around his ear and leaned toward him. “I didn’t quite catch that, Temperance.”

“I’m not going to tell on you,” Conrad managed to squeak out.

“Good boy, knew I could count on ya to keep a lil’ secret between the two of us!” Luce’s arm was suddenly around Conrad again, yanking him to his side, knocking Conrad’s head against his bony shoulder. “What kinda friends would rat on each other, amiright?”

“Luce…” The dark haired boy at his other side finally spoke up, his eyebrows furrowed in disapproval. He still refused to meet Conrad’s eyes, but it was some small relief, at least, that someone was willing to say something to Luce, to try to put an end to this.

“What?” Luce said, adopting, once again, that look of complete innocence. “I’m just makin’ conversation with my new lil’ bro! I don’t see _you_ extendin’ such overtures of kindness to yer new mentee, Mont.”

Conrad blinked. Mont? _La_ mont? So this was Hanna’s partner. Hanna had said he was alright, maybe he would have it in him to step in and put a stop to this after all. But then again, Hanna thought just about everyone was alright. His standards were low enough to befriend Conrad anyway…But as Conrad looked desperately at him for rescue, the boy only rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, fixing Luce with an even more thoroughly disapproving look than before. Luce ignored him, instead releasing Conrad to reach for the platters of food as they were passed down to their end of the table. He spooned heaping piles of mashed potatoes and spaghetti onto his plate.

“Go on, eat somethin’,” he said to Conrad as he poured himself a large glass of milk. Conrad wrinkled his nose in disgust. He had been rather severely lactose intolerant for as long as he could remember, but it had never bothered him much. The very sight of milk made him feel queasy, so he had never felt like he was missing out on much. He turned away from Luce and gave one last look around the dining hall to see if someone, anyone, might still come to his rescue. But the only person who seemed even mildly concerned about his welfare was sitting on the other side of his captor, eating mashed potatoes and pointedly ignoring the scene unfolding beside him.

Conrad chewed his lip and took a deep breath. He could try to get up and make a break for it, he supposed, but truth be told, he would rather just sit and suffer in silence than cause a scene in the middle of dinner. And Luce, Conrad felt certain, was someone who would have no problem causing a scene, even if Conrad did manage to escape quietly. Besides, he had survived worse than this back home. If all Luce was going to do was call him a girly name and give him a hard time about some stupid mistake from a year ago, he could survive this one dinner. The rest of the summer, though, he wasn’t so sure.

With a sigh of resignation, Conrad picked up the tongs from the spaghetti bowl and shakily served himself a blob of mushy, overcooked pasta, topping it off with a dollop of plain, flavorless sauce and a slice of garlic bread. He glanced at Luce, who was now ignoring him in favor of a pretty blonde girl at the other end of the table, flipping her hair and batting her long eyelashes at him. Conrad scoffed, turning to his plate and waiting until the youngest girls’ cabin finished leading grace at the head of the cafeteria to begin eating.

He couldn’t understand why Luce seemed to attract so much attention around here. Every other day he was sneaking around with someone new (guys and girls both, he didn’t seem to discriminate) only to have dropped them by the next day in favor of someone new. He was good looking enough, Conrad supposed. He could certainly see how Tall, Blonde, Blue Eyed, and Australian Accented could all be attractive factors to some more shallow-minded people, but Conrad couldn’t comprehend how anyone was able to see past his insufferable personality. He tried to ignore the loud, flirtatious banter beside him as the parade of 4th graders filed back into their seats and everyone around him began digging in.

But before he could so much as pick up his fork, something cold, wet, and sticky splashed onto his arms, pouring onto his lap, flooding his plate, flecks landing all over his face and eyes. Conrad sputtered and pushed himself back, scrambling out of the seat and looking wildly around. It was milk. A huge glass of milk. Nausea gripped him and for a moment he swayed, uncertain about whether it would be preferable to continue backing as far away from the sickening, milky river as he could, or to lean back in toward it, propping himself up against the table to avoid collapsing completely with disgust and humiliation. His knees quivered but held up as milk soaked through his shirt, his jeans. He turned his head slowly toward the source of the sea of laughter rising up around him. Luce sat comfortably in his same spot, one elbow resting on the table beside an empty glass of milk, rolling on its side. His eyes were fixed on Conrad, a lazy, impish grin plastered onto his face.

“Oopsie!” he said, propping up his chin on the palm of his hand, making no move to retrieve his toppled cup or mop up the mess. “Clumsy me! I sure hope ya ain’t allergic or anythin’…”

Conrad was paralyzed, struck dumb. Every cell in his body was screaming, writhing for escape. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t do anything, even as the group of seniors exploded in giggles and curious onlookers poked their heads up from other tables to see what all the ruckus was about. All he could do was look from his soaking, sickening, soggy plate to Luce’s grinning, insufferable face, smug and triumphant. It was like Luce was in his mind. It was like Luce was in his mind, reading his thoughts, plucking at the rawest cords he could find and sitting back to watch the chaos unfold. Week two. He wasn’t sure he could survive six more like this.

By itself, the very thought of the germs, the stickiness spreading over his body would have sent Conrad into a panic, but the humiliation, the publicity of it all, left him completely incapacitated. He wished he could peel his skin off. He wished he could sink into the ground and disappear forever. He could feel tears backing up in his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

“What’s going on down there?” a tired voice asked from the opposite end of the table. A young man, only slightly older than the rest of the teenagers sat around the table, with glasses and hair streaked with premature greys peered over his half moon spectacles. He had to be their counselor. Where had he been five minutes ago? Ten minutes ago? Why hadn’t he come over and made him sit at his own table when they first arrived?

“Nothing, Ples,” said a voice on Conrad’s other side, opposite of Luce. “Just a little spill is all, don’t worry about it.”

Someone was pulling Conrad gently by the arm. He swayed, stupefied, allowing himself to be moved without even bothering to see who was doing the moving. He was being led away from the table, away from the milk waterfalling from the table to the floor and pooling into a lake where Conrad once sat. It wasn’t until his savior spoke that Conrad looked up to see who it was.

“Could you try not being a complete prick for ten seconds of your life, Luce?” Lamont hissed over his shoulder, just quiet enough so that Ples wouldn’t be able to hear.

“What?” Luce called after them as Conrad allowed himself to be led firmly away from the table. “I didn’t do nothin’! Spills happen kid, ya gotta learn ta grow a thicker skin!”

Even with his back to the table and his eyes blurring over, Conrad could hear the smirk in Luce’s voice. He allowed himself to be guided, limp, soaking wet, and suddenly starving, out of the dining hall.

“Conrad? Hey! Hey Conrad! Where are you going?”

His whole body stiffened suddenly at the sound of Hanna’s voice. God, just when he thought this evening couldn’t have gotten any worse. Hanna might be the one person who had ever paid him any attention here, but he was the last person Conrad wanted to see. Not now. Not like this. He didn’t need Hanna’s sympathy or his comfort or his pity. He didn’t need anything or anyone. He just needed to be alone and scrubbed clean of every last trace of milk clinging to his skin.

“Hey Hanna,” Lamont said smoothly, not stopping to look back as his mentee skidded out the double doors after them. Conrad didn’t look back either. If Hanna was able to get a good look at him, the first question out of his mouth would be to ask what was wrong, and he wasn’t sure he could answer that question and hold back tears at the same time. “Conrad here just doesn’t feel well, I’m walking him back to the cabin. Nothing to worry about, he’s just got a bit of a headache.”

“Oh…” Hanna’s voice sounded mildly concerned, but convinced at least, and to Conrad’s relief he didn’t press the issue. “Okay, well feel better soon, Conrad!” he called from the edge of the dining hall porch. “I’ll see you tonight!”

Conrad managed a grunting noise in response. When Hanna didn’t reply, Conrad guessed that he must have already disappeared back into the dining hall to finish his dinner in peace among his cabin mates. Not for the first time, Conrad envied them. Happy. Dry. Full of dinner, unexceptional as the food was. Unplagued by crazed assholes with petty vendettas. He wondered how long it would take Ellis to realize that he was not among them.

As soon as the two were out of sight of the dining room doors, Lamont veered suddenly from the path back to Cabin 6, changing course to the oldest boys’ cabin, right beside the dining hall.

“Wait here,” he said as they reached the door, leaving Conrad to wait outside, shivering and growing stickier by the minute as milk dried on his skin. Conrad compulsively picked at the stiffening skin of his arms as Lamont darted into the cabin. He emerged moments later with a green towel in one arm and a brown, paper bag in the other.

“Here,” he said, handing the towel to Conrad, who took it without a word and wiped his sticky arms and hands with it. He rubbed his skin until he could feel it chafing, trying to remove as much milk and crust and germs as he could without taking a layer of skin with it.

“Thanks…” Conrad mumbled, not looking up from his work. Lamont was being nice now, sure, but Conrad wasn’t exactly overcome with gratitude. If he had just spoken up, just pulled Conrad away and told Luce to stuff it a few minutes earlier this never would have happened. This wasn’t kindness or bravery. This wasn’t the extended hand of friendship that it might have been if he had spoken up, pulled him away just minutes before. This was pity and Conrad knew it. Maybe that was the point.

They walked back to Cabin 6 in silence, side by side, Conrad diligently wringing out his shirt into the towel.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” Lamont said finally, breaking the silence. “I’m…uh…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I’m sorry about Luce. He can be kind of an ass sometimes but…”

“Yeah, you could say that again,” Conrad mumbled, just loud enough for Lamont to hear him.

“…but I really didn’t think he would go that far.” Lamont looked at him apologetically. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him,” Lamont grimaced slightly at the lameness of the assertion. “Heh, I guess that’s kinda dumb to say, I know he hasn’t exactly given you any reason to believe that. He’s my best friend and sometimes _I_ can’t stand him…”

“Why is he your best friend if you can’t stand him?” Conrad demanded, turning suddenly to face him. The sheer force of his anger, like a newspaper tossed in a pit of glowing coals, surprised even him, but he couldn’t help himself. He just didn’t get it. Why did all of these people seem to think the sun itself shone out of Luce Worth’s ass if even his own best friend knew he was an insufferable dick? Why would people like Conrad always have to suffer at the hands of people like Luce, and why would people like Lamont always stand by and let it happen? Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone? The injustice of it all rose in his throat like bile, burning out the lump that had hung there since they left the dining hall. Before he could stop himself he found the anger flowing out of his mouth like a forest fire.

“You know he’s being an asshole for no reason; I wasn’t _trying_ to get him kicked out, and what’s the worst that could have happened even if he hadn’t been able to come back this summer? He would have strutted around, acting too good for everyone else back home instead of here? He would have had to take the family limousine to parties instead of sneaking into the woods? He’s a petty asshole! How can you stand hanging around someone like that?”

Conrad realized suddenly that his hands were shaking. He looked over to see that Lamont’s face had grown serious, all traces of even nervous laughter evaporating from his features. Conrad sucked in a deep breath and bit the inside of his mouth as the realization of what he had just said and who he had just said it to struck him like a hammer. His heart stuttered and beat double time as panic, pushed to the sidelines by pure rage, returned once again to the forefront of his mind.

“I mean…” Conrad stuttered, unsure of how to recover. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry, I…”

Lamont quickly interrupted his floundering. “No, no, it’s okay,” he said, pushing a lock of dark hair from his eyes. “I get it, believe me. But…” he hesitated then, as if selecting his words carefully. “I think he would…surprise you…if you knew him better. He’s not as much of an asshole as he pretends to be.”

Conrad raised a silent eyebrow at him. He crossed his arms over his damp, milky shirt and Lamont quickly continued.

“You’re pissed,” he went on apologetically, “and I get that, and you absolutely have every right to be. But…I think you freaked him out a lot more than you realize.”

“ _I_ freaked _him_ out?” Conrad asked in disbelief.

Lamont gave another awkward, nervous laugh and shook his head.

“I know that sounds crazy, Luce being…well…the way he is. If he knew I told anyone that he’d kick my ass, but it’s true. I’m not making excuses for him. He’s an ass, I won’t deny that. I’m just trying to make you understand why he’s being this way.”

Conrad said nothing. Nothing about Lamont’s explanation had done anything to illuminate him about the logic behind Luce’s assholery. If anything, he felt like he understood even less than he had at the beginning of this conversation. What was Lamont trying to say? That there was a heart of gold slumbering deep beneath piles of caked on condescension and cigarette stains? That his prickly personality was just an outer shell to protect a soft, cuddly inner self? That seemed unlikely, verging on impossible to Conrad.

Lamont looked over at Conrad after a long moment of silence and let out another jittery laugh.

“I guess I’m not making a lot of sense, huh?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I guess what I’m trying to say is…try not to think too poorly of him, as hard as that might be. He’ll come around. I’ll talk to him tonight and—“

“No!” Conrad broke his silence suddenly, whipping around to face Lamont, stopping them both in their tracks. They were just feet away from the front porch of the cabin now, and moths hummed around the dusty lanterns affixed on each side of the doorway. The deep blue of the evening sky in the sun’s wake mixed with the yellow fluorescents cast a dim, eerie light over the swatch of dirt and weeds that lay between Cabin 6 and the other buildings around it. “No, _please_ don’t talk to him about it! I’m begging you, that will only make things worse. If he thinks I was whining to you about it he’s only going to give me a worse time and—“

Lamont held up both of his hands in surrender, cutting Conrad off mid-outburst.

“Okay, okay, I won’t say anything to him!” he said, eyes widening as Conrad took several short, sharp breaths to calm down. “Relax. If you’re that worried about it, I won’t bring it up. But try not to worry too much, okay? Before too long he’ll get bored and back off. That’s just kinda the way it is with Luce, you’ve just gotta let him burn himself out. Even he has a limit to how much of a dick he’s willing to be for the sake of getting back at someone.”

But Conrad couldn’t believe that. Not even for a second. The gleeful soullessness in Luce’s eyes that whole evening was a testament to that. Luce didn’t hesitate for a moment. He didn’t have any second thoughts. He did what he wanted, consequences be damned. How could Conrad go up against someone like that? Even if he did burn himself out eventually, there was no knowing how long that might take, or how far he would go before it happened.

But he kept his mouth shut. He looked silently at Lamont, whose nervous remorse was almost becoming more grating to him now than Luce’s outright vindictiveness. He helped him, and for that Conrad was thankful, but he knew that the moment Lamont returned to the dining hall, their alliance would be over. And what good was a helping hand that could turn and strike at any moment?

“Thanks for the towel,” was all Conrad could think to say, before pushing it back into Lamont’s hands. He turned to walk back to the cabin, ready to shower off the evidence of the day and go to bed, but Lamont put a hand on his shoulder before he could take more than a step.

“Hang on,” he said, and pushed the brown paper bag that Conrad had nearly forgotten about into his hands. “This is for you too.”

Conrad took it with some trepidation and peeked inside. For a fleeting moment, some part of him thought that maybe this had all been another elaborate prank, and the bag would be full of spiders or snakes or a spring waiting to pelt him with water balloons full of milk, or something even worse. But instead he found a bag full of packaged crackers and pastries, topped with a pack of chicken flavored instant ramen.

“Since you missed out on dinner,” Lamont said, giving him another apologetic half-smile. Conrad pulled out a package of cheese crackers and inspected them for mold or insects or some kind of device that zaps you when you try to open it, like a gag package of gum. He found none. He looked up at Lamont, who was already turning to go.

“Thanks,” was all he could think to say as he clutched the bag close to his chest, standing awkwardly on the front porch of his empty cabin. Lamont waved vaguely over his shoulder.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”

Conrad agreed.

Stomach growling, throat aching, clothes still damp and dripping, Conrad turned his back on the growing darkness and returned to the comfortable silence of the empty cabin, locking the distant laughter from the dining hall and Lamont’s dissolving figure out behind him.


End file.
